That Castle We Built In The Sky
by AzardBrazul
Summary: Two years after Quinn Fabray's world shattered, she is surviving with the support of her friends. Saddled with a broken leg Quinn's life is abut to take a turn for the worse. Sometimes you chose to move on, and sometimes the choice is made for you. Mature themes.


**_That Castle We Built In The Sky_**

_Walk on through a red parade  
And refuse to make amends  
It cuts deep through our ground  
And makes us forget all common sense  
Don't speak as I try to leave  
Cause we both know what we'll choose  
If you pull, then I'll push too deep  
And I'll fall right back to you_

_- Clarity (ZEDD Ft. Foxes)_

_**Author: AzardBrazul  
Beta: PrincessWraven**_

* * *

It's dark. She's drunk and her legs are wobbly.

He pushes her against the wall and she slides down, her knees buckling under her weight.

The light of the nearby streetlamp flashes off the blade of a penknife and suddenly she's blind.

She hears a thunk, and Tina falls heavily onto the asphalt beside her.

Her left hand scrabbles wildly for anything at all, managing to clutch onto one of Tina's hands. She honestly can't tell which.

Her heart is beating so loudly, it's a miracle she even hears the gun click.

Tina's fingers squeeze tight around her hand.

The gun fires.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Quinn wakes up screaming as the fourth and final shot is fired.

She's sitting up ramrod straight, her clothes sticking to her skin as her drenched and crumpled bed sheets twist and curl around her lithe body. Her chest is heaving rapidly, as if she had just run a marathon. Her breath comes out in quick bursts that sound like whip-cracks in the silence.

Her eyes are wide and her irises jitter, scanning her empty apartment.

After a moment, it hits her: She's alone.

Alone and hollow.

And then, not for the first time, Lucy Quinn Fabray bends over, rests her forehead on her swollen knee, and cries.

[~*~]

It's morning and the early rays of pale yellow sunlight shine onto her face through the broken sun filter she'd fitted onto her bedroom window last week.

Quinn's eyelids flutter as her eyes acclimate themselves to the bright light.

And then she groans as she realizes that she's slept through her alarm. Again.

Gripping hard onto the attached handles on her bed, she pulls herself upright. She's panting even from that little exertion and she wonders, for what seems like the millionth time, if she should quit smoking. She dismisses those thoughts as she grabs her left leg with both arms, careful not to put pressure on her swollen knee, and pulls it over the edge of the bed.

She grunts in pain when her leg catches on the free bed sheets hanging off the edge, twisting just a little. Bending her good leg towards her body, she slowly settles in an awkward half-lotus on the edge of her bed.

Reaching towards her bedside table, she takes the see-through container her sister left for her last night. Quinn muses on how lucky she is to have such a caring sister as Frannie.

Popping the lid open, Quinn picks up the large sterilized syringe and stares at it for a moment. She's twenty nine years old. She should not need her sister (who lives next door) to do her pharmacy runs every week. Halfheartedly, Quinn rips open the packet. After attaching the needle, Quinn inserts it into her swollen knee with practiced ease. She sighs with relief when she pulls the piston back and yellow fluid drains into the syringe, seeping out of the hollow areas between her shattered kneecap.

When the syringe is almost full she pulls it out, drops it back into its box, and pops the lid closed. Then, she thoroughly wipes her knee clean with a tissue.

"All done," she whispers into her silent apartment, before reaching for her cane with her right hand and tentatively pushing herself onto her feet.

[~*~]

She fries an egg on the black cast-iron skillet her mother had given her last Christmas. For a moment she deliberates adding bacon to her egg.

"Oh, what the hell?" she mutters pinching at her waistline "Gonna get tubby at this rate anyway."

With that she adds a few slices of bacon onto the skillet and moves them around with her spatula.

When her egg is done and the bacon browned and sizzling, she shuts off the gas and tips the contents of the skillet onto a waiting plate. Grabbing her cane, she limps over to the fridge, which stands against the far wall of her little kitchen, and pours herself a cup of apple juice. After considering for a few moments, she opens the fridge again and pulls out a half-empty bottle of vodka, spiking her juice generously.

Grabbing a tray from the pink plate rack (her sisters choice) sitting on the counter, she places her plate and drink on it. Then, she grabs her cane and, sandwiching the tray between her left arm and her waist, Quinn limps over to the door. Finally managing to open it after a few fumbles and muttered curses, Quinn moves through and turns left to the staircase. Carefully, she begins to climb the wide staircase up to the roof.

She returns for the pack of lights on the counter.

[~*~]

The roof is actually a very cozy place to dine. Frannie had cobbled up a table by stacking a few cinderblocks together and laying the broken upper half of an old door on top of them. A few white deck chairs stand around the table where her sister had left them. All around her, the remnants of the party her sister had thrown yesterday - paper cups, paper plates, empty bottles, balled up tissues - litter the floor.

The strong breeze whips her unruly ponytail left and right as she closes her eyes and inhales. The relatively fresh air tickles her nose and her lips almost form a small smile.

Setting her breakfast on the table, Quinn stands up and stretches. She then pulls a chair and starts attacking her meal.

[~*~]

She's standing by the small wall on the edge of the roof, sipping her drink as she takes long drags out of her third cigarette. She can feel the vodka burning the back of her throat and the smoke curling in the pit of her stomach, and for a moment she feels something like peace. Taking a long drag, she stubs the cigarette into the ashtray that she'd left on the top of the wall, before pulling another out of the blue pack from her back pocket, and lighting it up again.

Behind her, the metal door separating the stairwell from the roof screeches as it opens. Quinn twists and watches as her older sister Frannie steps onto the roof. Seeing Quinn, Frannie grins wide before weaving her way through the copious litter towards her sister.

"Hey there, little sis!" Frannie exclaims as she pulls Quinn into a hug. "You gave me quite the scare there yesterday, you know."

Quinn blushes and mumbles an unintelligible apology .

"Yeah, how about you let me bum a smoke and we'll call it even?" Frannie smiles as she steps out of the embrace.

Wordlessly, Quinn hands her sister the pack of lights that resided in her back pocket and Frannie taps out a smoke, lighting up using Quinn's.

After a few minutes spent smoking and staring at the bland Lima skyline, Frannie turns to Quinn.

"So, everyone missed you last night, sis."

Quinn, for her part, takes a long drag and thinks for a few seconds before exhaling.

"I'm sorry that I made everyone worry."

Frannie smiles kindly at her sister.

"Don't worry about those guys, fuck 'em, what do they know anyway? No. Quinnie, I just wish you would, y'know get out a bit. And by get out mean actually relax, like, go to the park or something, not going to Puckerman's shitty brother's shitty bar and getting so smashed that you can't even hold your cane straight."

Quinn's eyes flash. "Look, I fucked up, okay? I'm sorry!"

Frannie just shakes her head and throws her cigarette out into the road before slowly drawing both of her hands up on to either side of Quinn's face. "You know that I love you, right? You know that there is _nothing _I will not do for you, right?"

Quinn mumbles something while staring at the ground.

"What? Can't hear you Q, could you speak louder?" Frannie is almost grinning now.

Quinn replies through gritted teeth.

"I said yes, I know."

Frannie breaks into a grin before pulling Quinn's face down to rest her forehead against hers.

"Hmm, then promise me. Promise me that today after your session, that you're gonna go to the park or something? Take some time for yourself away from this depressing dump, please?"

Sighing, Quinn pulls back. "I'm sorry Fran, but I really can't."

Frannie's smile falters a bit. "Why not, Quinnie?"

Sighing again, Quinn drops her smoke down and gingerly steps on it

"I was thinking that, today after my session, I could maybe visit Tina..."

Frannie's eyebrows almost raise to her hairline. "Oh... OH! You're planning to visit... and here I am, badgering you like some moron... stupid, stupid..."

Quinn's giggle cuts her off and Frannie stares as she sees her sister laugh for the first time in two years. Something warm fills her chest and Frannie feels her own grimace melt into a smile.

"Okay, okay, I'm hilarious," she slaps Quinn's arm before pulling her sister into a one armed hug. "Fine, you're off the hook for today. But promise me that you're gonna go do something tomorrow? Please, Quinnie?"

"Okay, I promise." Quinn says into Frannie's hair.

[~*~]

_[And today, in local news. Lima Ohio's very own Broadway success Rachel Berry starts out as instructor of the musical and dramatic arts at William McKinley High School, where she, too, used to attend ten years ago._

_The Broadway star, on hiatus since last year, after she concluded her three year run in the popular stage musical 'Wicked' as the wicked witch of the west, Elphaba Thropp, has since revealed that she in fact applied for the position as early as last spring. Ms Rachel Berry has since been accepted, and is set to revolutionize the current attitudes towards drama and show choir._

_During our exclusive interview earlier this week, Ms Berry seemed very excited for this position. When asked during the interview why she chose McKinley High instead of any other schools in New York or LA that would be glad to have her, Ms Berry had this to say:_

_"Lima Ohio, holds a lot of memories for me. And I am very proud of the changes Lima has gone through these past years-"]_

Quinn sighs as she lets her forehead rest on the counter in front of her. Blindly jabbing at the remote, she manages to shut off the TV...

...And Rachel.

Rachel, now that's a face Quinn doesn't think about all that much. Except when she's reading about her on the gossip magazines her sister practically lived on. Reading about Rachel's meteoric rise to fame. Reading about her two year long marriage with Finn that crumbled rather spectacularly in front of everyone. Reading about how Rachel became closed off and almost antisocial after that. Reading about her stint on 'Wicked' which proved to be her last role on stage. Reading how Rachel, like everyone else, slowly found her way back to Lima.

It isn't as if Quinn stalks Rachel or anything.

No, her work hours are mind numbingly boring, is all. Like they are right now.

Pulling herself upright, Quinn scans the empty music store her sister owned. Racks and racks of Vinyl and CDs line the walls. Frannie had even set up a few baskets on the tables in the middle for the bargain items, which is pretty much anything Frannie didn't like.

At least Quinn's iPod is never empty.

Her sister bought the store, a fruit shop back then, two years ago. And together, they renovated and redesigned it into what it is now. They decided to divide work hours, each taking three days and both having Sundays off.

It's only the boredom that Quinn hates.

[~*~]

Quinn's back is stiff. She's sitting on her therapist's lime-green couch as she stares out of the nearby window.

Her therapist, Natalya, is tapping her pen against her clipboard, looking at Quinn expectantly. Natalya is quite used to this. They do this every time Quinn comes for her session. They start off with simple questions, like 'How was your day?' or 'Did anything exciting happen today?', and Quinn would answer those quite readily. But then Natalya would ask something particularly penetrating, like what she had asked Quinn a few moments ago - 'How do you feel about Tina's situation?' - and Quinn would clam up until the session ended.

This is familiar.

This is their dance.

They dance this dance every day.

But today is different.

Quinn turns away from the window and stares at the blood red floral pattern superimposed on Natalya's carpet.

Natalya stops tapping her pen.

"I feel broken," Quinn whispers. Her voice is so low that she hopes Natalya hasn't heard her.

She has. And she's penning it down as unobtrusively as possible.

"I feel broken... and sick and tired and angry." Her voice rises steadily, and at the end Quinn is standing up, her cane, which resided on her lap, clattering to the ground.

"I just feel so angry." Her voice is soft. She sounds so lost.

Natalya clears her throat and Quinn's head tilts up, their eyes locking.

"Well, that would be a common response for anyone in your admittedly unique situation, given your past history with Ms. Cohen-Chang. The important question would be: Who are you really angry at?"

Quinn, stares back out of the window.

"I don't know."

Her left leg starts to hurt.

[~*~]

Quinn is staring at a blue vase stuffed full of foxgloves when she hears the bell jingle behind her. She's at Lima's only florist, attempting to put something nice together for Tina. Something worthy of Tina. She holds a bunch of Stargazer lilies in her hand, adding a few pink tulips into the mix, when someone taps her on the shoulder.

Quinn almost drops her flowers.

Turning around, she comes face to face with none other than a grinning Rachel Berry.

"Whatcha doing, Quinn?"

Artie always had this saying that goes something like this: 'It's bad enough when Rachel smiles, but when she grins, you'd better drop whatever the hell you're doing and duck for cover!'

Immediately on guard, Quinn clears her throat.

"N-Nothing Rachel, j-just getting some flowers for Tina."

Rachel is, as always, a pint-sized powerhouse. She's dressed in an elegant black sundress that pulls all the attention towards her like a mini black hole.

Quinn doesn't think she could pull off something like that. Well, not anymore, anyway.

"Oh, how is Tina? I haven't visited her yet, I'm planning to sometime this week, though."

The little smile Rachel has while she says this makes the tips of Quinn's lips twitch upwards.

"She's well... as well as she can be..." Quinn breathes in a deep, confidence-building breath and looks into Rachel's eyes. "Rachel, why are you here?"

Rachel grins.

"Oh, no reason, Quinn. I was walking down... Yes, Quinn, I walk, don't look at me like that... now where was I? Oh! Yes! I was walking and I saw you here, and I just needed to say hi!"

Rachel giggles and Quinn nervously pulls at her flowers.

"You didn't have to do that. You could have just called."

Rachel hands Quinn her phone. "May I have your number, Quinn?"

Quinn stares at her for a moment before a giggle bursts up through her resistance and she takes the phone, entering her digits.

Rachel smiles as Quinn hands her the phone back. Then she calls the number Quinn just entered.

Quinn, playing along, answers the call.

"Hello," Rachel lilts. "Could this, by any chance, be Quinn Fabray?"

"Haha Rachel, very funny," Quinn tries to sound disapproving and fails miserably. Rachel's energy is contagious.

Rachel turns to the door, the bell tinkling as she pulls it open.

"Well, I've gotta go, Quinn." She speaks into her phone. But, if you've ever got any time to kill, maybe give me a call?"

And then, with the sound of jingling bells, Rachel Berry is gone.

[~*~]

The hospital room feels cold.

Little spots of coldness stab Quinn's bare arms like pin-pricks and fairy kisses.

Tina sleeps on a rigid and uncomfortable-looking metal-handled bed. She's tightly tucked in lime green bedsheets.

She looks serene. The lines that adorned her forehead before the accident have faded. The tips of her lips are slightly upturned and Quinn thinks that if she can delude herself enough, she could _almost_ believe that Tina is asleep.

But Quinn doesn't try to delude herself... not anymore.

But she does try to ignore the tubes and wires that lead into Tina's cocoon of bedsheets. She also tries to tune out the periodic beeps the machine behind her emits, the beeps that continuously remind Quinn that Tina is alive.

Alive on borrowed time.

With trembling hands, Quinn empties Tina's bedside vase into the nearby washbasin. Dry foxgloves and pale pink rose petals decorate the washbasin when she's done. Tenderly undoing the ribbon on the bouquet Rachel had pointed out, Quinn spreads it out on the small table.

Pink and red tulips mixed with stargazer lilies stare up at her and, for a moment, Quinn looks at them and smiles. Tina used to_love_ stargazer lilies. Quinn would buy them for her on rainy days, and _every single time_, Tina would bring the whole bouquet up to her face until the soft pink petals caressed her nose and cheeks, deeply inhaling their soft perfume. Every single time, a smile would bloom on her lips, brightening the rest of Quinn's day.

Quinn misses that smile.

Quinn sighed heavily, her smile morphing into a frown. She finally turns to look at Tina properly.

_Her_ Tina.

Leaving the flowers spread on the table for the moment, Quinn walks over to the hospital bed. The sharp smell of hospital antiseptics bites at her nose as soon as she leaves the comforting fragrance of the flowers.

She stands there, beside the bed, and gazes at Tina.

Tina's hair and skin look so much healthier than they did the first few weeks. She even seems to have gained a little weight. Quinn smiles a wistful smile at that.

Even under a coma, Tina looks radiant.

_Her_ Tina was always a fighter.

Sitting heavily on the bedside chair, Quinn grips Tina's left hand.

Tina's been like this for two years, ever since the attack that made both their lives spin out of control. After being shot multiple times to the limbs, torso and head, Quinn had ended up with her warped knee, while Tina was left in a never-ending coma. The doctors had pronounced her brain-dead last year.

Quinn and Tina's parents fought tooth and nail to keep her on life-support.

"Hello, darling." Quinn bends down to kiss Tina's forehead.

Even now, after all this time, Quinn holds on to the possibility that her Tina would come back to her. Some call her belief childish optimism, but she calls her belief the only thing that stops her from hurling herself off the top of the nearest building.

"I know I got a little sad yesterday when I came to see you." Quinn's hands clench mildly.

"But, I'm better now!" Quinn smiles. "I went to Jake's and got pretty smashed!" Quinn giggles.

"Yeah, yeah... I know, _'I am NOT amused Quinn!'_ I know dear. I know."

Quinn bends and places her forehead on their clasped hands.

"I'm trying, Tina. I'm trying with all I have to get my shit together, but..." Words fail her and she has to bite her lower lip hard to stop herself from growling.

She clears her throat and straightens up before staring at Tina's closed eyelids. Tina's sallowskin positively glows in the fluorescent hospital light.

"I joined a twelve step program today... Well, wrote my name in, anyway. Natalya says that it'll be good to take my mind off things, but I don't know."

A trembling hand unclasps itself and reaches out to smooth a lock of Tina's hair behind her ear.

"I don't know anything anymore, Tina... The only thing I know is that I love you, and I don't want it to end like..."

Quinn is biting her lip and tears are flowing down her cheeks.

They glitter like diamonds dripping from her cheeks, splattering like drops of Veritaserum on Tina's arm.

Quinn buries her face in the crook of Tina's arm.

"IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. Tina. I. Love. You," she mumbles.

"Please... Please wake up... why won't you wake up? Please?"

Quinn's chest is heaving and she's breathing erratically and she's sobbing and she really doesn't know what to do with herself anymore. Clearing her throat, Quinn looks at Tina. Her face scrunches up and she has to turn away. It's too much for her, she grabs her cane and pushes herself onto her wobbling feet.

Just when she's about to run from the room, the door opens.

The doctor and Tina's father stand in the doorway.

"Quinn?' Tina's father asks.

"Mr. Cohen-Chang." Quinn bites her lip.

Tina's father frowns.

"I thought I told you that my daughter was out of bounds to you after the mental breakdown you had here last month. Tell me, why are you here when you clearly have no business here?"

Quinn's jaw drops.

"I'm just visiting Tina. I'm not doing anything wrong."

Tina's father scoffs.

"You are doing everything wrong when you're breaking the restraining order I filed on you."

Quinn looks away.

"As I thought, you've got nothing to say..." He rubs his forehead with the palm of his left hand. "Now, if you would kindly leave, and let a father say goodbye to his daughter."

And suddenly, Quinn's world stops.

"Wait, goodbye?"

Tina's father almost growls. "Yes. We, her mother and myself, decided that it's time. Time to let her go."

Quinn is gaping, shock overwhelming her every sense.

"Oh my god, you're pulling her out of life support!" Her voice is barely a cracked whisper.

"We're finally letting her rest."

"You're killing her!"

Tina's father's eyes morph from weary resignation into burning anger.

"You've accomplished that quite well, haven't you, Quinn?"

Quinn reels as if she'd been punched in the gut.

"That day, two years ago! Her damn graduation party! I told her not to go with you! My beautiful daughter would be alive if you'd just stayed out of our lives!"

"It's not my fault," Quinn whispers. Then, louder. "IT'S NOT MY FAULT!"

The doctor moves forward to diffuse the situation, but Tina's father throws his arm out, wordlessly warning the man not to get involved.

"Okay, if it's not you, then tell me, Ms. Fabray. TELL ME WHO DID THIS TO MY DAUGHTER!"

Quinn's back is bowed and she's heaving. In the periphery of her mind, she knows that a panic attack would be bad in her condition. She also knows that Tina's father is goading her into an argument to vent his own pain, and that she should just walk away. But, as always, when Quinn digs a hole for herself, she digs it deep.

"I DON'T KNOW! Even the police don't know!" She's screaming now and only slightly aware of the small crowd gathering at the doorway.

"YOU DID THIS! NOBODY ELSE! IF SHE WASN'T WITH YOU SHE WOULD HAVE BEEN FINE! YOU _MURDERED_MY DAUGHTER!"

Quinn does not know who threw the first punch, but all she can see is red and flailing limbs and pain. When Hospital Security restrain her, she's screaming and kicking and flailing. The only thing anyone can make out is 'It's not my fault' repeated again and again in the midst of utter gibberish.

As she's being handcuffed, Tina's father steps on her left knee. There's a resounding crunch and Quinn's scream is positively bloodcurdling. She whimpers and flails as the older man crushes her knee. With one look, he stops the Security Guards inching towards him. He then bends down and grabs Quinn by her short hair, pulling her up.

Quinn whimpers again as half of her weight falls onto her broken knee.

Tina's father looks murderous as he focuses all of his attention on Quinn.

"The day after tomorrow. We're going to pull her out the day after tomorrow, if there's no improvement. You're not to come even remotely near her during that time, or even to the funeral. If you do, I'll make sure that you can't use _both_ your legs," he growls. "Permanently."

With that, he lets go of her hair and Quinn falls in a heap on the floor, a mess of haphazard limbs and dirty blonde hair.

"It's... this isn't... this isn't fair!"

Hands reach under her arms and haul her up. Quinn whines when her left leg, numb with pain, drags behind her.

"This isn't fair!" she screams.

[FLASHBACK]

The camera clicked and Tina's mother grinned as the two girls wearing graduation robes disentangled themselves from each other.

They had waited their whole lives for that day and It was finally here. Tina couldn't wait to go to the off-campus party with Quinn that night! Quinn had smirked at her enthusiasm and gently pecked her lips. They both jumped when a camera clicked loudly behind them.

When they turned, Judy -Quinn's mother- grinned impishly back at them.

"Oh my god! Mom!"

Judy chuckled and had pat Quinn's arm.

"You two just look _so_ cute!"

With that, all of them walked towards the Main Hall.

Tina's mother had looked at Quinn and smiled. "You know that I don't approve building castles in the clouds, right Quinn?" She chuckled at Quinn's confused nod. "But, _this_ I have to ask!"

"Oh, this ought to be good." Tina grumbled from beside her mother.

Mrs. Cohen-Chang slapped Tina lightly and turned to Quinn.

"Where do you see yourself five years from now?"

Quinn thought for a moment before looking at Tina and shifting her gaze to Tina's mother.

"Honestly, I see myself as a frontline architect. You know that I don't ever want to be anything but the best."

Tina's mother clapped excitedly and pulled Quinn into a hug.

Judy turned to see Tina staring at them with a fond smile on her lips, and cleared her throat.

"Well, Tina, you know I'm all for equality and all that." Judy grinned. "Where do you see yourself five years from now?"

Tina smiled wistfully as she turned her gaze towards Quinn and her mother who are chatting animatedly about something. They looked like old friends.

"Honestly?" She asked, turning to Judy.

Judy nodded and Tina looked back towards Quinn, their eyes meeting.

"I see myself married to Quinn five years from now."

[END OF FLASHBACK]

She's sitting on the edge of the little cot in the small cell she was put in.

Her knee is set in a splint and stretched out before her. It doesn't hurt anymore on account of all the anesthetics that'd been injected into her leg. It feels blissfully numb. It's the rest of her that's in worse condition.

She clutches her face in her hands. The edges of her palms dig into her nose and her nails bite painfully into the skin around her temple. Quinn's back trembles and tears drip from the edge of her chin down onto the cold cement floor. Held captive inside her chest, her heart beats to the rhythm of hummingbird wings.

"Tina... What did we ever do to deserve this?" She whispers, voice hoarse, into the empty cell.

Curling up on the small cot, Quinn falls asleep.

[~*~]

BRR. BRR. BRR.

Rachel's mobile, sitting on her nightstand, seems intent on not letting her catch a wink of sleep.

BRR. BRR. BRR.

Groaning loudly, Rachel lifts herself off her fluffy, bunny-shaped pillow and reaches groggily for the insistently vibrating phone. Glancing at the caller ID she groans even louder. For a moment she wonders whether she should just chuck the nuisance across the room and be done with it. Deciding against it, she flicks open the cell.

"Puck!" Her voice is hoarse and she hopes she doesn't have to talk long. "What the hell do you want at this time?"

The voice on the opposite end hesitates, intimidated by her angry tone.

"...Rachel?"

Rachel growls loud.

"NO! It's the bloody tooth fairy! Of course it's me! Honestly, Puck! Just cause you're the damn sheriff..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa... Calm down, Rachel." Puck quickly heads off what is indubitably the beginning of an epic Rachel Berry Rant. "Calm the fuck down!" He takes a deep breath. "It's... What the hell is the time?... Oh my god! Its only like, seven thirty! People are still working at this time, you know?"

Rachel groans. Loudly.

"Noah Puckerman! Did you call me just to discuss my sleeping patterns? ...I'm hanging up."

"Whoa, hold on, Rachel!"

"Well, what is it, Puck?" Rachel is too tired for this, and she makes sure her tone makes that blatantly clear.

"I-It's about Quinn."

And just like that, Rachel's faculties return to her. Her mind clears, she sits up, and she's suddenly very serious.

"What's happened? Is she okay? Noah, please don't tell me you called to... Did something happen to her?"

Rachel hears Puck sigh into the receiver.

"No, she's kinda not. She's here, at the station. She's been crying for a while, Rachel, I just... I don't know what to do! I can't be her friend right now, I need to be the Sheriff in front of her. She sure as hell wouldn't want to see my face now, anyway..." Puck peters off dejectedly.

Rachel inhales sharply.

"She's there? What do you mean, Puck?"

She hears Puck sigh into the receiver again.

"The guys had to bring her in..."

Rachel frowns.

"Wait, bring her in, meaning?"

A long pause follows.

"She's in a cell, isn't she? Seriously, Puck? In her condition?"

Puck's voice is indignant and defensive through the connection.

"She assaulted Tina's dad. He had a restraining order put up last month after she flew off the handle and almost choked his wife. It's not my fault if she has some serious anger management issues, Rachel."

"Oh Puck, but you know she can't help it..."

"Yeah, but Mr. Cohen-Chang is a very powerful man, Rachel, he can pull some serious strings. I can't protect her when she pulls stunts like this. Most I could do was force some nurse to put her leg into a splint and numb her leg... I try my best... god knows I try my best..."

Rachel bites back the retort that's at the tip of her tongue and tries to be diplomatic.

"But what provoked her? Why did she blow up?"

Even through the line, Puck's voice sounds uneasy.

"Her parents decided that it's time to let Tina rest. Quinn flipped. She's been unstable since then... Rachel, I seriously don't know what to do here."

Silence envelopes the line for a few minutes.

'Rachel? Are you still there? Santana isn't picking up, she's probably at a party someplace with Brittany. Frannie's at the hospital, trying to smooth things over so that they don't press _more_ charges. You and Quinn were close, Rach, you're all I've got."

Rachel, snapping out of her reverie, leaps off her bed and strolls into her walk-in wardrobe.

"I'll be there in fifteen, Puck."

[~*~]

Quinn lies passed out when Puck lets Rachel in, curled up in a fetal position on the cot, with her wounded leg stretched out in its splint. Rachel sits on the edge of the cot and reaches her hand out to touch Quinn. It's been so long since she'd touched her. The last time they shared any type of intimacy had been high school.

High school was a long time ago.

And yet, Rachel's feelings for Quinn haven't changed at all.

Her hand pauses mid-action, before reaching out and tenderly caressing Quinn's mussed blonde hair, brushing it away from her forehead.

Quinn's eyes open slowly as Rachel withdraws her hand.

"Tina?" Confused hazel eyes gaze at Rachel's hand as it reaches out again to tuck a blonde strand gone astray behind Quinn's ear.

Rachel smiles kindly before replying.

"No, it's Rachel. I'm here to bust you out."

"Rachel?"

Rachel smiles before turning slightly.

"Puck, I think we're ready. Can you let us out now?"

Behind her, Puck unlocks and opens the door as Rachel gathers Quinn into her arms as Puck gently sets a crutch into Quinn's free arm and helps her stand.

[~*~]

Leading her out of the dingy police building and into the crisp night air, Rachel holds Quinn's hand firmly in hers. Rachel only lets go when they are both standing in front of her car in the parking lot and she needs to hug herself because it's just that cold.

Quinn, leaning heavily on the crutch Puck had given her, wordlessly shrugs out of her jacket and wraps it around Rachel.

Rachel smiles in thanks before opening the driver's side door and slipping in. Quinn deliberates in front of the door for so long that Rachel pushes the door open from the inside.

Their eyes meet and Rachel can see the indecision deep in the blonde's eyes. She can also see the pain that standing is exerting on her and that spurs Rachel onward more than anything.

Her voice is soft but firm as she extends a hand to Quinn.

"Get in, Quinn."

Quinn inhales sharply.

Rachel's eyes burn with a strange sort of fire as she continues.

"Join me."

* * *

_'Cause they say home is where your heart is set in stone  
where you go when you're alone  
Is where you go to rest your bones  
It's not just where you lay your head  
It's not just where you make your bed  
As long as we're together, does it matter where we go?_

_-Home (Gabrielle Aplin)_


End file.
